


The Cell

by moonshineandfireflies



Category: The Walking Dead
Genre: Graphic, Horror, Hurt/Comfort, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-24
Updated: 2019-03-24
Packaged: 2019-12-06 20:36:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18225119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonshineandfireflies/pseuds/moonshineandfireflies
Summary: Daryl’s time in the prison when he was kidnapped by Negan





	The Cell

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own or affiliate with The Walking Dead.

The mind can be a wonderful tool to relive happy memories or recall joyful moments, but it can also be a terrifying mechanism of fear, anguish, and pain. Daryl Dixon found himself clinging to the brink of sanity sitting in complete and total darkness with the putrid smell of week old dog food and his own filth filling his nostrils causing him to gag with every breath. His mind constantly playing tricks on him was his only reprieve from the soul sucking darkness. All was deathly quiet except for the sound of his heartbeat in his ears and the sounds of his ragged breathing. 

Days, weeks, even months could have gone by, but the darkness was still an ever present horror. Sleep was nonexistent with the pain in his stomach from starvation. Empty cans of dog food lay at his feet with the sound of flies buzzing and the scurrying of a rat in the corner. The cell was small, barely able to allow his legs to stretch without hitting the opposite wall. The only source of water or food was what one of Negan’s wives or Dwight would bring him every few days. Once or twice, he had the familiar whistle of Negan outside the cell. 

Barely able to keep his eyes open, Daryl sat curled up with his knees to his chest and his chin on his knees. The darkness was almost deafening. 

“Boy, ya ain’t gon’ fuckin’ be nothin’ but a pussy yer whole life. Just like ya, Mama. Ya fuckin’ soft. Ain’t shit. Ain’t no son of mine gonna run from shit. No, sir. Fuckin’ faggot.” His father’s voice rang in his ears as the memories of his childhood came rushing back. He could see the old man sitting in that filthy cigarette stained, liquor covered piece of shit recliner slumped over with a cigarette between his teeth. The strap of his stained wife beater hanging off his shoulders and his jeans worn from use. Then, just as quickly as the memory came, it vanished and Daryl was alone. 

He must have fallen asleep because the sound of someone clearing their throat jolted him awake. He tried like hell not to stare feeling bile rise in his throat as Glenn stood on the opposite side of the cell with his face covered in blood. The entire ride side of his face had been bludgeoned leaving nothing but the remnants of what would have been his cheek and jaw bone. His skull was cracked open with bits of pink brain tissue at the surface, but the most disturbing part to Daryl was the eyeball Glenn his lying in his right palm with an obvious hole where it should have been staring darkly at him as blood fell like tears. 

“You did this.” Glenn spoke maliciously pointing at Daryl with his left hand. “You and your stupid temper are the reason I am dead. You’re the reason why Maggie is in anguish. You’re the reason why she is alone. Fuck you, Daryl.” 

Curled up in a ball, Daryl sobbed quietly. He couldn’t remember the last time tears had stained his face. Maybe, when he was alone in the woods up in a tree in the dark at six years old crying for his mama. Maybe, when at the age of twelve his daddy had hit him so hard he ended up with a concussion and three broken ribs. Maybe, it was finding Merle tearing through another man’s body looking at him with lifeless eyes. Maybe, it was the gut wrenched moment he carried Beth Greene’s lifeless body out of Grady Memorial Hospital unable to tell her how much he loved her and how hard he tried to find her, but her death was his fault. Everything was his fault. 

“You’re gonna miss me so bad when I’m gone, Daryl Dixon.” Beth’s voice rang out like bells in his ears. Goosebumps appeared on his arms just hearing his voice, even if it was all in his head. Fuck, he missed her. His eyes were closed for fear of seeing her when he opened them. He could feel the tips of her tiny fingers against his arm causing him to shiver. “You gotta say who you are, Daryl, not who you was.” 

With tears running down his cheeks, Daryl opened his eyes blinking at the sudden brightness like he was looking at the sun for first time. There she was in front of him radiating light and warmth. Sitting cross legged on the filthy cell floor, Beth Greene grinned reaching out her hand to him. He took it immediately watching his hands shake as she ran her thumb over the back of his scarred hand. He couldn’t speak. Somehow, she was cleansing him. He could feel his resolve coming back. She giggled causing his heart to soar. She was staring at him like she had all the answers and he was gaping like a fish out of water. “Would it kill you to have a little faith?” She spoke softly barely above a whisper. Daryl opened his mouth to answer but by then she was gone. 

Suddenly, he felt colder than he ever had in his life shivering violently hearing the sound of whistling echo down the hallway. The clang of his cell door being open caused him to jump. Squinting into the light, he looked up into the shadow of Negan standing above him. He would ask the same question and then leave Daryl alone in the darkness once more, but this time Daryl had an answer. 

“Who are you?” Negan smirked slinging his nail covered bat around looking down at Daryl Dixon with a look of superiority and pity. 

Daryl just scoffed. “I ain’t nobody’s bitch.”


End file.
